I Will Be
by nolongerwithyou
Summary: When Keeley finds out her little brother has been raped and murdered by members of the Italian Mafia, she goes searching for the Saints to bring justice. Little does she know that one brother has pledged to do more than bring the murderers to their knees.
1. Murdered and Missing

**A/N: First try at a Boondock Saints FF, so go easy on me. Just like my Walking Dead FF, main character(s) (the brothers) will be introduced in the second chapter. I'm just poking fun at this, so some feed back might help me decide whether to continue or not. Haha, Reviews are ALWAYS welcome, and they help get those updates out there faster. Please, Enjoy.**

**Proverbs 1:16 For their feet run to evil, and make haste to shed blood.**

"_Oh my fucking God Patrick Lets GO! You are going to be late, and in the process you are going to make me late! And guess what? I won't be signing your ass in as tardy!" She yelled at the top of lungs, pulling along the small boy whose shoe laces were coming undone, and eyes filled with tears._

"_Sissy, I forgot my lunch! What am I going to do?" The six year olds eyes filled with panic, as they rounded the corner alley, and up the steps of the small elementary school. _

"_Jesus Patrick! I tell you to grab one thing ONE thing, and you can't even do that can you?" The young woman crouched down and zipped up the boy's coat, wiping away the snot from around his nostrils. "You'll just have too buy lunch today, because there isn't time for me to go home and grab it. Try really hard to remind me to put it your lunch in your backpack tomorrow okay?" _

"_But I don't like what we are having today! Its makes me sick!" Patrick continued to fidget as his sister cleaned the residue of breakfast from his small chin and lips._

"_You make me so damn angry, you know that?" _

_The school bell rang._

"_Patrick you have go in now, remember, Hailey is picking you up after school because I have to work late tonight okay?"_

_She stood to leave looking left and then right before getting ready to cross the busy south Boston street. Just as her right foot hit the curb, as small precious hand grabbed hers._

"_Keeley, please…can you walk me in? I'm scared. I just want to stay home today. Please?"_

_The child's eyes brimmed with salty tears, but next to him his sister fumed with relentless anger._

"_Damn it Patrick I don't have fucking time for this! Walk your ass inside that school and Hailey will be here at 3:15 to get you!" _

"_But, I'm scared."_

_Rubbing her temples Keeley took a deep breath._

"_What the fuck are you scared of? Huh? What could you possibly be scared of? That's right; NOTHING. GO. TO. SCHOOL." _

_The little boy's brown eyes twinkled, as a single tear fell. Wrapping his arms around Keeley's waist he muttered an 'I love you.'_

"_Yea, whatever," She sneered, "You need to get going. You have nothing to be afraid of. I'll see you tonight."_

* * *

><p><em>Keeley watched as little Patrick climb those stares so clumsily, his little HULK backpack bouncing up and down. Little Patrick, whose thick hair stuck out every which way because he refused to comb it after his baths. Little Patrick, whose tiny shoes never stayed tied. Yes, Keeley watched as little Patrick climbed those stairs, and then without a second thought, turned to go to work…<em>

_Tick, tick, tick_. The clock above the soda machine taunted Keeley with each irritating _tick! _It was about that time of night when things got slow. The burgers had been left on warmers—no one was going to bother making fresh ones—and only one of the large deep fryers was in use. She intently watched as a fly circled around the heating lamp above the chicken tenders, and looped around to land on a fresh-cut, sea salted, french fry. The fly seemed content to sit atop the fry, rubbing together its greedy little feelers, basking in the heat and crispness of the deep fried potato.

Yes this is how busy the busiest _Wendy's _in all of south Boston operated at 10:30pm. Engrossed in boredom Keeley paced around the cooking area, never talking but always watching others as they sipped their _Coke_ and told raunchy jokes. Often she wondered if there was more too life then what she had. Being twenty-four with little less than year of college behind her landed her here. It was never suppose to happen this way. She was never supposed to flip burgers and fry nuggets for a living, but when her parents died, she had no choice.

They had left her at the rip age of twenty to care for—at the time—her two year old brother, seeing as the child had no other family and Keeley couldn't refuse. She had quit dental school and took up two jobs. The first was here at this God forsaken death trap, and the other as an artist. The latter became more of a hobby when she realized how expensive the materials were to create her 'masterpieces.' She could only sell them for half of what it cost to make them. So as it was she worked a full time job, and shared an apartment with her friend Hailey and her little brother.

Often because of shitty pay, the rent was a problem, which grew into a child services problem, and landed her in the hole a few times. She loved Patrick, don't get her wrong, but sometimes the little monster was one hell of a hassle. The sleepless nights she spent on the phone with the endless list of case workers, was met in the morning by a crying boy who wet his bed. Had it not been for her outside friends Keeley was sure she would have lost the boy by now. In fact, had it not been for her outside friends, Patrick wouldn't even have the clothes on his back.

She owed everything she had to two people: God and Rocco. Rocco had found Keeley some three years ago slouched over drunk in an alley, outside of an illegal loft housing building. The woman had stumbled out of a bar, and wandered the streets for hours, crying and cursing God—as Rocco told her—and had later poured out her heart to the stranger. He had taken her to his apartment, which was basically a hole in the wall from what she remembered, gave her a shitty cup of coffee, and they got to talking.

Rocco had heard her story out and was pretty damn impressed by how well she had been holding up so far. The problem at hand was it was two weeks before Christmas, and with the bills to pay and rent, Keeley just couldn't swing getting presents for Patrick that year. It tore her apart to think that even if she _did_ have the money, she would have to spend it on clothes and a new pair of shoes for the growing boy. No little kid wants that for Christmas.

After their long conversation Rocco had driven Keeley home and had a chance to meet her little brother himself. Rocco had always been a big softy, with an even bigger heart, and when he saw the little boy running around in nothing but a dirty diaper in the middle of December…well that pulled his heartstrings. Keeley remembered bursting into tears Christmas day, when Rocco had showed up with at least a dozen presents; each holding either a toy, or new clothes for Patrick. A million thanks poured from the girl's eyes, and after hours of fun and celebration she was forced to ask: How?

Holding the small Patrick in his arms Rocco explained how growing up he had some hard times himself. That when in high school he had gotten involved with the Italian Mafia of Boston, and was more or less a package boy. The reason he was able to get all the gifts: His connections. Apparently, although ruthless killers, they weren't heartless toward innocent children…or so she had thought at the time. It was through Rocco that Keeley was able to keep her apartment and afford new clothes for Patrick when he outgrew the old.

As years went by every now and then she would come home and a brown paper package would be waiting for her outside the apartment door. Always addressed to: The little man, From: Rocco. Inside there would always be something Patrick _needed_, and then something he _wanted. _Never once did Keeley expect anything for herself, so when it did happen, it came as a total shock.

One night when she had come home from work, and went to the kitchen sink to do the dinner dishes Hailey so kindly left for her, she saw a small squared box, wrapped in the same brown paper and tied with twine. It fit perfectly in her palm, and was about as heavy as a small rock. Next to it, on the countertop, was a handwritten letter on yellow paper, folded in half. She knew it was from Rocco, and had about called out Patrick's name to come get his gift when she opened the piece of paper.

_Keeley,_

_Hope you like it._

_Rocco_

Keeley remembered raising an eyebrow in confusion. He had used an entire sheet of paper, just to address a gift to her.

She sat on the couch and opened it carefully, trying not to tear the crappy gift wrapping. Inside the contents of a small box was a simple silver chained necklace. Keeley's eyes had brimmed with tears as she put it on. It was the first and last gift she had received like that, and she would hardly forget it.

Tick, tick, tick. 11:00pm, half an hour to go and she would be free; that is until 8:45am tomorrow morning. Rolling her eyes she flung her visor on the front counter top and played with her name tag. Boredom couldn't even begin to describe what she had been experiencing at that moment in time. Her feet were aching, her stomach was killing her, and all she wanted to do was get off work, go home and eat a microwavable frozen pot-pie. Wiggling her toes in her shoes she tried to busy her mind. She had read all the writing on the side of all the different cup sizes, each spelling out, 'WENDY'S OLD FASHIONED BURGERS' in different sized lettering. She then decided to read each of the button's on the cash register, and thought better of it. You can't exactly read a _picture_ of a cheeseburger.

When the time had come for her to change her clothes she skipped into the bathroom—probably in more excitement than needed. Keeley hurriedly changed into an oversized long sleeved shirt, and kept the black pants on, while kicking off her black work shoes and replacing them with black Converse. Placing each foot, one at a time up on the toilet seat, she tied her shoes. Grabbing her coat from the back room she slipped it on, clocked out, and left for home.

While walking back to the apartment Keeley pondered about what happened that morning, and how awful she had been to Patrick. She felt her heart rip and tear at the thought of how cruel she had sounded. The small boy had cried into her waist 'I love you.' and she replied with a whatever. Really she needed too work on her temper and try to be more motherly and caring toward the child. Thinking of ways to make it up to him the next day, she decided instead of cereal, she would make him blueberry pancakes.

Keeley smiled picturing it. A new day, a new beginning…he would walk out of his room and the first thing she would do would be to kiss him on the forehead, and lift him up to the table. Next they would talk about his pervious day at school, and what he had learned. Then she would lower the pancakes to the table—served on his favorite IronMan plate, complete with fork—and tell him how much she loved him.

Yea, that would be exactly what she would do.

Climbing the stairs to the fourth floor of the building, Keeley pulled of her key, more than ready to get inside. Slipping the key into door number 706 she turned the lock and stepped into the room.

Reaching out for the light switch she tried it, and nothing happened. Cursing she threw her coat and key on the chair, and stomped over to the kitchen. Again she reached over and flipped the light over the breakfast nook, and still nothing happened. Finally Keeley grabbed one of the dozen of candles she had laying around, and lit it with a match from the pack she kept hidden from Patrick, under the sink.

Simply dismissing it as a power outage—these happened frequently in the neighborhood—she walked down the short hallway into Patrick's room.

At first she thought nothing of it when she saw the boy wasn't in his bed, and figured he must have gotten scared and crawled into bed with Hailey. So sighing she closed his bedroom door, to keep the rest of the house warm, and moved onto the next room.

Odd enough Hailey's door was jammed, and it took Keeley having to put down the candle, and ram her body against the door to get it too open. When it swung ajar her gut tightened. Something about the atmosphere of the darkened space filled her with trepidation and apprehension. It was the same feeling she had when she found her grandmother dead in her hospital room, and the same as when Keeley had been called down to identify her parents' bodies. It was a feeling of being in the presence of the dead, and her blood rain cold. It took all of her vigor to step into the room.

Through the light of candle she traced the small drops of blood, to a pool of crimson that drenched the white sheets of the small bed. Around her voices from her past came screaming at her, charging full force like a blunt blow to the head. Mangled and ripped, completely rid of all her clothing. That is how Keeley Duffy found her friend, Hailey McNabb. Her blonde hair had been cut to her scalp, her stomach spilling out all her innards. The glassy look in her eyes told the story of unwanted hands probing her flesh before the mutilation.

Keeley screamed in shock and in disgust. She screamed and backed away slipping on guts, and bawling at the state of the corpse. Placing a shaky hand out toward Hailey's forehead she screamed again. Her body was still warm.

Running to her room she tore everything apart looking for Patrick. Under the bed, in the closet, she even looked out the window to see if he had fallen out onto the street below. The child was nowhere to be found. Her brother, her little, sweet, innocent brother, was gone. No matter how hard she tried to calm herself, she continued to shake. The image of Hailey, who was only in next room over, had her mind drifting toward Patrick, and what awful things may have happened to him.

* * *

><p>"That is all I know, detective." Keeley was leaning against the apartment doorframe, her first two fingers pressed against her temple, and eyes red from crying. She had been at it with the Boston Police since 2am and still they had gotten nowhere.<p>

On top of everything going on inside the tiny apartment, outside the entire building was in an uproar. Rumors had already started, most of which could be traced to the old women who had nothing better to do with their lives. Already people who lived three floors beneath her were sending her condolence cards, and plates of cookies. Keeley took special care with each, ripping the cards into pieces and pitching the cookies into the waste basket. Whether they meant it sincerely or not, when she opened the first and read how Patrick was in a better place now, she fumed. How could someone say such a thing? She didn't even _know_ where he was, and here everyone else seems to have written him off.

"You mean to tell me the lock wasn't broken? None of the windows are shattered…and you live on the _fourth_ floor. Ma'am, there is no evidence of a break-in. No witnesses." The detective sighed and reached into his pocket. Pulling out a cigarette he offered one to Keeley, who swiftly declined.

"Like I've stated _numerous _times now, I came home like always from work, opened the door, and the lights wouldn't work. I lit a candle and went to check on my little brother. Obviously not in his room I checked in on my friend…" She trailed off; lowering her head Keeley trembled in tears.

"Miss Duffy, was it?"

Keeley nodded.

"Did this friend of yours, Hailey…did she have anyone who wanted to do this to her? Anyone you can think of?"

Shrugging she raised her arms out and then let them fall to her sides.

"No, not that I know of."

It went on like this for a long while, back and forth, as if she were trying to clear herself of being a suspect. After the interrogation she was told she couldn't stay in the apartment any longer due to the investigation.

"Do you have a place you can stay momentarily?"

Keeley nodded and asked if she could get to her room to pack a bag and she was denied. 'Nothing could be compromised', they told her.

Only able to grab her coat and shoes she left the hell she'd been cooped up in for nearly twelve hours.

Walking the entire way past the downtown deli, broken alley ways, up and down concrete steps, and through an old iron gat, she had finally made it. Reaching out with her fist she pounded on the door. Faintly she heard fumbling and music being turned down. Then finally the lock was flipped and the door flew open. She must have looked as bad as she felt because for a moment those eyes just stared blankly at her, a look of disbelief hidden behind shaggy hair.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

Running her hands through her hair Keeley glanced upward, and then to her left, and then to her right. She did everything she could to keep from crying but when she looked at him, the tears poured out.

"Hailey's dead." Her voice croaked, and she jammed her fists into her coat pockets. That's all she could say at the moment; bringing up Patrick might set him off on one of his rampages.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, _what _the _fuck!"_ Rocco's voice picked up volume.

"Can I come in, please? I don't have any other place to go." She pleaded, kicking at the brick foundation.

The door swung open the rest of the way and he motioned for her to come inside, and gladly, she did.

Once inside the small space she rummaged threw empty packs of cigarettes, looking for one that might hold one or two that had been over looked.

"Key, you could just ask for one." Rocco scratched his head and held out a pack for her to take. "Now what happened?"

Not answering Keeley ran over to the stove and bent over to light her cigarette, holding back her hair so it wouldn't catch fire. Next she paced back and forth, taking long hits and holding in her breath until she left lightheaded.

"_Hello?"_ Rocco flung his arms in front of her face.

"What the fuck do you want me to say? I came home from work and found her slashed Jack the Ripper style in her bed." Keeley burst into tears once more and the room fell silent for a long time.

"Well, shit. I—I guess here in a bit I'll go get Patrick from school and you and him, your both more than welcome to stay here."

Keeley shook her head and sunk into the couch.

"Rocco…Patrick is missing."


	2. Two Irish Fuckers

**A/N: Due to the enthusiastic reviews and comments I received from the first chapter I've decided to continue this piece! *smiles* to be honest if I hadn't gone through some of my old Cranberries CD's I wouldn't have come up with the idea for this fanfiction. (For those of you who don't know, The Cranberries: A-mazing Irish Band from the 90's) So thanks to the song 'Fee Fi Fo' by the Cranberries. :P ****Just a few notes: As I said this is my **_**very first****_ **Boondock Saints fanfiction, so forgive me if anyone seems too out of character. I'll still try my best! Next, this is legit shit man. I have all intentions of making it a romance, but I'll be taking it slow. **

**WARNING:**

**Anyone who read the summary knows: A child is raped. Yes, there will be a chapter(s) in which things get pretty graphic (I'll warn you again later) so if you feel you can't handle that, skip it, or don't read at all.**

**Obviously language. Anyone who has seen the Boondock Saints knows that the F-bomb is dropped like a billion times. Same thing in this FF.**

**^ like above only regarding violence**

**And of course there will probably be naughty scenes. :x But who doesn't like those? **

**Lastly, I'll end each chapter with a question. Your job will be to answer it, and then spice it up with those lovely reviews ;)****Thanks go out too:** SaraLostInes—**first person to review and compliment my FF dubbing it as awesome! I could hug you! Haha. **Undertaker's Wife—**for taking the time to let me know this FF is worth continuing. And last, but certainly not least **IsThisACliche—**from loving my portrayal of Daryl Dixon, to giving this FF a chance, I hope in return I can at **_**least**_**give you something good to read. -Sarah**

* * *

><p><strong>Genesis 9:6 Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed: for in the image of God made he man.<strong>

* * *

><p>Rocco stood in the living room, staring at Keeley for a drawn out length of time. Still on the couch, the girl put her head in one hand and held her cigarette in the other. No words need be spoken to understand the gravity of the situation. The emptiness in her soul pulled her apart. As hard as it would be for anyone else to understand, Keeley felt as though she had lost her <em>son. <em>Plagued with thoughts of Patrick's small thin face, contorted in pain, fear, and misery, she shivered. He was alone, and frightened. He was calling out to her like he yesterday. Just like before she wasn't there. Her body shuddered in sobbing heaves of grief. If only she had held him, walked him into class, and kissed his little cheek. If only he knew she loved him, she loved him more than life…but instead he was all alone, and he _didn't _know. What if while she was sitting there thinking, Patrick was suffering the same as Hailey had?

Her gut wrenched.

Keeley vomited all over Rocco's coffee table.

"Oh God…Oh God…Rocco I'm sorry." She whispered as she cried, dropping her cigarette. Keeley tried to mop up her heave with a dirty shirt she found lying on the floor. Nothing much came up, except the fries she ate last night at work, and the cup of coffee she drank about an hour ago.

"Hey, don't…don't worry about that." He waved his hand, sitting down next to her. Rocco put his arm around her, rubbing her shoulder while picking up the cigarette that had been dropped; finishing it.

Time went by just like this. Keeley cried into his chest, her body curled on the sofa next to Rocco. Every so often he would kiss the top of her head. He never asked for the gruesome details, only using reassuring words for comfort.

Mulling over the situation Rocco lit both of them a cigarette and when Keeley was able to take it, he gave one to her.

His own heart broke at her news, and as much as he wanted to cry—which he would when alone—the poor girl needed to be able to look at him and see composure.

Examining Keeley's state he gently brushed away the few tears that remained. The woman's body still shook with every wavering inhalation. Her fingers wrapped tightly around collar of his shirt.

"I never answered him," She whispered. "He told me he loved me, and I didn't answer him. I was angry because—because…he wouldn't get out of bed. He wanted me to snuggle him…and I yanked him out and swore at him Rocco. Those were my last moments with him."

Raising his eyebrow Rocco sighed. Next he pursed his lips, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Key, you don't know where little man is right? So…like…why freak out? Not saying you shouldn't fucking be worried, but you also shouldn't act like he's already fucking dead."

Keeley placed a new cigarette in between her fingers. Hesitantly she placed the lighter at the end.

"I'm…Rocco you didn't see Hailey. If the same sick bastard that killed her has Patrick…"

The man pulled the cancer stick from her lips.

"We will find him soon, and when we do you can't be fucking smoking a pack a day."

Sighing Keeley pressed her palms against her eyelids. She began rubbing and scratching, smearing her already running makeup. Rocco was right. She couldn't let this news—no matter how awful—get her back into the habit of smoking. Patrick's doctor had confirmed with Keeley that he had developed asthma due to secondhand smoke. This made sense, seeing as both of her parents had been smokers, and naturally Keeley had become one. After that, she had been trying to stop. Semi-successful with her attempt, Keeley had lowered her intake to about three a day. A limit she had broken today, in two hours.

"Then what do I do? The police have patrols out looking in the streets and parks, but that doesn't help _me._" Images of Patrick's shivering body crossed her psyche once again. "…That doesn't help me. I'm so careless…so _useless_ right now."

Expecting some kind of rebuttal for the cruelty she just placed on herself, Keeley was utterly disappointed when Rocco only nodded in agreement.

Watching as he brushed the hair from his eyes, she looked up at her friend. Rocco was deep in thought. That much she was sure of. He would start off tapping his foot. Next he would nod his head, as if following the beat of music. Keeley loved to watch him do this. It was oddly calming. His breathing was even and for a brief moment, since all this shit happened, she was at peace. He had brought her some serenity in that dark and dire time. For that, she would always be grateful. Of course, Patrick was still in the back of her brain, but for a moment she wasn't plagued by thoughts of his death. They were just passive, consoling memories.

Still Keeley felt she was giving up sitting there. Somewhere, in the city of Boston—she prayed still in Boston—was a six year old boy. A six year old boy without his coat, shoes, inhaler…

No, she wouldn't think that way. Keeley forced herself to focus on the possibility that he may have gotten away. Patrick could be somewhere safe. Wasn't it probable he had slipped out of the house? That he had found a stranger who took him in and would wait for Keeley to bring him home? It was _possible, _but unlikely. The door to the apartment had been _locked_ from the _inside_. So if Patrick had gotten away, wouldn't it have been unlocked when she returned home from work?

Keeley groaned.

"I _fucking _got it!" Rocco's enthusiastic voice caused her to jump right out of her skin.

Shifting her position so that her legs were crisscrossed in front of her chest, she raised her eyebrow.

"Don't gimme that look; it's a good fucking idea." Crossing the room, Rocco grabbed his coat.

"Where are you going? Damn it Rocco, please don't leave me here." Keeley tried to suppress tears. She just couldn't lose anyone else.

While slipping into his jacket, Rocco waved his hands around exaggeratingly.

"What part of I have a fucking plan," Now he was pointing his index fingers at her, "Don't you fucking get?"

Eyes rolling Keeley stood up and gathered up her coat and keys.

"Plan, huh? Rocco, I'm not in the mood for sitting in a bar listening to your stupid jokes all night. That isn't going to help, and isn't a good plan."

"Give me some credit you dick licker, I'm going to try and help you find him." He opened the front door and let Keeley out first. "…and my jokes aren't _stupid._ I'm the Funny Man."

* * *

><p>Keeley had to admit, it wasn't that bad of an idea at all. In fact, Rocco had really come through. It had been ridiculous to doubt in the first place, now that she thought about it.<p>

Their first stop had been the school Patrick attended. Once there, after explaining the current situation, they were able to access Patrick's school photos. Keeley had picked out one that fit her brother's profile currently. She had lingered for a moment or two, running her fingertips along the edges. Oh, how she missed him.

Patrick was a handsome little guy. His big, round, brown eyes always twinkled with mischief. The boy's tiny little button nose—the same as Keeley's—was adorned with light freckles, just like the rest of his body. An unruly, thick mop of coffee hair jutted out over his eyes, masking his light colored eyebrows. Patrick's small mouth was curled in to the left, showing his signature grin, and missing teeth. There he was smiling at her, telling her he loved her one more time…

"I love you too, buddy." Keeley whispered, a single crystal tear cascading down her face.

Keeley turned to her right, feeling the weight of a strong, steady hand on her shoulder. Rocco smiled, taking the photograph in his grasp, and tucked it safely in his coat pocket. It was his way of saying it was time to leave; to advance to step two of the plan. In silent agreement, Keeley slipped on her coat, while watching Rocco slide on his shades, coolly.

The second stop was an office supply store. Both bodies felt awkward in a place so neatly organized. Neither of them would disagree; it made them feel quite inferior. It wasn't however, so much the _store_ that made them feel this way. It was more or less the people that worked there.

The men and women both were dressed in neatly pressed, button down shirts, kaki dress pants, and sported a red name tag. All the female employees wore their hair in some kind of 'up-do'. (Low ponytails, high buns, high ponytails, and even french braids.) While the men tended to sport either over-gelled or bowl-cut hairstyles. Too top everything off; one in every five employees had thick rimmed glasses. Rocco and Keeley had stepped into nerd heaven.

"What are we doing here again?" Keeley hissed between her teeth, waving and smiling at a small woman who was stocking the ballpoint pens on a shelf. She received a nasty glare in return.

"Fucking flyers. We need loads and loads of 'missing person' flyers."

Keeley sighed, "And we can get those here?"

"Sure, sure. Just follow me."

Without much of a choice she followed Rocco over to the grey desk, and rested her arms on the edge. Looking over at her companion, she smiled. With hands in his jean pockets, his eyes had wandered around the space, analyzing the walls and people. Rocco hadn't even noticed the man standing behind the desk, directly in front of him repeating the question, 'What can I do for you today, sir?' It took Keeley lightly kicking his boot for him to snap back to the present.

"Where did you go, _Funny Man?_" Keeley giggled.

"Wha? OH! Fuck, yea sorry man, listen…"

Now it was Keeley's turn to blank out. She let her eyes travel. This place was so dreadfully boring—and she thought _Wendy's_ was bad. There wasn't even interesting conversations taking place between co-workers. Well, at least not interesting to her. Had the new _World of Warcraft_ patch, peaked her interest in the slightest, she would have jumped right in. As it was it didn't, so she had no choice but to return to Rocco and the man behind the counter.

"So can you do it?" Rocco's fist hit the counter with a tad bit more force than what he intended.

Jumping, the man mumbled a yes, and asked for the information; which Rocco gave, never skipping a beat.

"Patrick Fosten Duffy. Six year old boy, brown hair and eyes, I'd say about 3 feet 5 inches tall…Key how much you think Little Man weighs?"

Keeley smiled. Anyone who didn't know better would think he was talking about his own.

"Last time I took him to the doctor he weighed 46 pounds. That was about three months ago."

Rocco nodded, leaned over onto the desk and pointed down at the paper the employee was writing on.

"And if anyone sees him they need to contact his guardian, Keeley Duffy at 617-283-5555…and uh…" He frowned, turning toward Keeley. "You think it'd be okay if I—"

"Don't even ask Rocco," Keeley had cut him off. "You know my answer."

With a gigantic grin, Rocco snapped his head back down to the paper and tapped it with his middle finger three audible times.

"Or they need to ring up David Della Rocco at 617-858-5555."

Keeley examined the man behind the desk intently as he finished jotting down the information Rocco gave. Then, without his eyes leaving the page, he reached out for the photo. It was then Rocco had pulled the small crumpled picture from his coat pocket, and glanced down at it for a moment. She was almost certain he had started to tear up. But before she could get a better look, he set the photograph down, and put his shades back on.

"How long is the wait?" He whispered the question, clearing his voice of poignant emotion.

The employee picked up the thin sheet of paper, and held it parallel to Patrick's photo; comparing the information for himself. The man lowered his glasses to the tip of his nose, and examined it closer. His eyes strained, as if trying to capture every minuscule detail of her brother's profile. Satisfied, the man then scanned his customers more fixedly before sighing.

"I'd say an order this size should be done in about an hour. Once we scan the photo and the information to our computer, we can adjust it to fit onto the flyer paper, and begin copying."

Keeley pursed her lips, "How much, for all of it?"

"Your total is two-hundred-and fifty dollars." His response was rather curt, which annoyed her.

Tugging on the zipper of her purse, Rocco had stopped Keeley.

"I'll take care of it, Key." He struck his Fonzie pose, and she let out a strident laugh, causing others to stare.

"It's okay _Fonz_; I think I can handle this."

"No, Keeley…really…_I got this."_

Understanding his undertone she mouthed an 'Oh…' and placed her checkbook back into her purse.

While waiting for their missing person flyers, Rocco and Keeley walked the block a few times, and bought a cup of coffee. Even though she hadn't filled her stomach with any nutrients, the coffee didn't upset her system as much as she thought it would. Then again, the sickness Keeley felt in her gut wasn't the product of material emptiness; it was Patrick. Nothing she did, and no matter how hard Rocco tried—and sometimes succeeded—to make her laugh, it couldn't completely take the child off of her mind. That was just as well for her.

It just didn't seem fair. No, it didn't just _seem _fair, it _wasn't _fair. Here she was drinking coffee and laughing with Rocco, when Patrick should've been there with them.

It was nearly three by then, and even though she told herself she wouldn't eat, Keeley conjured up the guilty thought of her brother, hungry and alone. What if he was thirsty? What if his nose was runny and he didn't have a tissue? His poor little nose would redden, and then become irritated.

Keeley picked and poked at her coffee lid, sniffling against the cold air.

"Posters are probably done by now. We should head back to the store, 'sides I'm freezing my dick off." Rocco flicked his cigarette.

She nodded, quietly in agreement. "Lead the way."

* * *

><p>The flyers were perfect; simple and to the point. Being vibrant, they would definitely catch the attention of any passerby that may walk within viewing distance. Gripping a handful of the crisp warm papers Keeley and Rocco started stapling and plastering all over south Boston. From the high estates to the lowly slums of the city, Keeley made sure they had left their mark. With the police out looking, and the papers circulating, wherever Patrick may be, they would find him.<p>

As it grew dark Keeley suggested they call it a night. The sun had just set behind the tall buildings, cooling the crisp salty air. Lights from the city's roads, houses, apartments, and other structures danced across the snow. It was something close to a winter wonderland in Keeley's eyes. Yellow, orange, and white sparkled against the crystallized snowflakes; reflections from shops and car lights. The snow that fell from the sky landed on her hair and shoulders, melting against her body's warmth. Plumes of winter's breath poured from Keeley's nose and mouth. Each exhalation followed by the sound of chattering teeth. It was cold, she was tired, and still Patrick had not left her mind.

"Just one more place," Rocco put his arm around her shoulder, pointing somewhere off into the city. "I know a group of guys that'll really keep their eyes peeled for little man."

Keeley rubbed her hands together and then shoved them in her pockets.

"Oh, yea? Where is that?"

"You'll see," He smirked. "You've been there before. Like, fucking four years ago or some shit."

* * *

><p>"McGinty's Pub? Are you sure I've been here Rocco? I mean…yea I know it. I walk in front of it everyday on my way to work, but I don't remember ever going inside." Keeley shivered, stamping her feet on the front mat before opening the door.<p>

"_What _the _fuck_ are you doing?" he shut the door, pushing against the frame until Keeley let up.

Raising her eyebrow in suspicion she answered, "Going _inside_, Rocco. I presume that is what wanted to do, correct? Or would you like to stand out here until we turn into giant ice sculptures?"

Always the exaggerator, Rocco flung his arm over his shoulder and spun around ridiculously; pointing to the alley just around the corner.

"People who are nobody go through the front door. We ain't fucking nobody. And yes, I'm sure you've been here before. Now let's go…its fucking cold out here."

Dragging her by her wrist, they rounded the alley corner and into a large wooden door. Keeley looked up and around her person. The dumpsters, the brick buildings, and the smell of drunkenness were all vaguely familiar. Yet as hard as she tried, Keeley just couldn't place it.

Rocco opened the door, shoved her through the door way, and then stepped in himself. The atmosphere of the bar was light. Unlike most, the attendees weren't the rugged, nasty trucker type. They weren't the large bulbous bikers with 'Mom' tattooed on their arms neither. It seemed like the kind of place you'd go with a friend or two. A place you could have a few drinks without the trouble of getting the wrong kind of attention. The kind of place Keeley would like.

Few people sat around the various tables, and even fewer were up at the bar itself. All together there must have been ten persons, each enjoying his beverage, chatting with an old bartender.

"Hey fuck ass, get me a beer!" Rocco yelled at the old man, taking a seat at the bar.

In the two seconds since they arrived, Rocco had already left her.

Sighing, trying to find something to occupy her mind, Keeley wandered over to an empty table and looked down at the handful of flyers that were left. She missed Patrick; oh how much she missed him. Keeley speculated if anyone had called about her brother, and silently prayed they had. Placing her hand over the picture, Keeley buried her face into the crease of her arm, and silently cried. The tears slipped out in streams. She tried to keep her body from shaking, while forgetting all the others around her. Who could take a child? Why would you steal just a precious gift? How could you murder another human being so brutally? How can you rape and murder a woman?

Why had God done this too her?

"Key,"

She looked up with reddened eyes.

"Key, Doc over there…he says you can put some flyers up in the pub. The guys here, they are clean. If news of Patrick comes by they will let us know." Rocco sat down next to her and shifted his head in the direction of the bar.

"And those two Irish fuckers over there—they wanna help too."

Keeley raised her eyebrow in suspicion. "And do you know these two _Irish fuckers?_"

Rocco sighed and slammed his fist on the table. Keeley jumped.

"Stop all this fucking second guessing shit. I know what I'm doing, and you gotta fucking trust me."

Waiting until the tension died down, Rocco put his hand under Keeley's chin.

"Come on now, Key. You gotta trust me. I'm going to get the best of the fucking best to help you."

Keeley refused to look Rocco directly in the eye, but shook her head in a silent response. Rocco might be the master of half-baked plans, but she did trust him.

Grinning from ear to ear Rocco slammed his fist on the table again.

"Damn it, Rocco! One of these times your going to hit a table and something is going to fly up, hit me in the head, and kill me." Keeley scolded him, trying to hide the amusement in her voice.

"Yea…remind me to tell you the story about the cat." He turned around in his chair and whistled to get the men's attention.

Keeley tilted her head and bit her lip at the sight. They may have been two Irish fuckers, but they were _very_ nice looking Irish fuckers.

"Who did you say they were?"

Rocco stood up and hugged both of them, each exchanging their own hellos.

After the short lived friendly banter, the three men sat down at the table; all facing her.

"Key, I'd like you to meet the two craziest Irish fucks in all of south Boston: Murphy, and Connor MacManus."

**Okay, so I promised they'd be in this chapter, and they were. xD**

**Question time: I won't be giving out a full description of what Keeley looks like in this FF. I find it more fun to read a FF and be able to visualize an OC in my own way. So, here it is: What do _YOU_ think Keeley Duffy looks like? I'm totally curious! **


	3. Forgive me Father

**A/N: Third chapter! Woo-hoo! Now to answer your questions! 1) About the plot of the fanfiction regarding Rocco: This FF will NOT strictly be following the first movie. In my opinion Rocco made the first film, his character had me laughing at almost every line. So naturally I had to put him in my FF. I may pull this and that from the film and stick it in some chapters where I see fit (Such as the story about the cat) but I don't intend on making this FF stick too close to the first movie.**

**Thank you for your reviews: **SaraLostInes, IsThisACliche, Anon, **and **to lazy to login **xD **

**Also, I LOVED hearing how you all picture Keeley! As the author I found at least one thing from each of your descriptions that match my own. **

**I really appreciate you all taking your time to tell me what you think. : ) as always enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: As much as I don't want to admit it…I own nothing -.-**

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><p><strong>Psalm 30:5b:<strong>** weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.**

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><p>Introductions had been given and the three men went about their conversations. Keeley listened in a haze of despondency as they chatted about the game, the outrageous price of cigarettes, and other small talk subjects which she didn't care about. Trying to keep her mind off of the small boy staring up at her from the photograph, Keeley decided to study the three men in front of her instead.<p>

Of course there was Rocco; his shaggy hair nearly caught fire next to the red end of his smoke. Keeley couldn't help but stare at the man's eyes as they burned bright against the bar's dimly lit walls. From the first sober moments of their initial encounter, Keeley thought he was striking. She had always considered the possibility of telling Rocco how she had felt, but when he flashed that brilliant smile, her knees went weak.

The first MacManus brother—the one called Murphy—sat on his stool, trying to get his cancer stick to light. His lighter was faulty by the looks of it, so when Keeley lent out hers, he took it anxiously. Unable to help herself, she continued to stare. In her defense, it was rather hard not to ogle at such a fine specimen. Any woman would find herself analyzing Murphy MacManus if given the chance to get close enough. His eyes were blue. A deep searching blue, almost feline like. They scrutinized the given area intensely, picking out this and that to examine more closely. Keeley had apparently made the cut. Murphy had caught her eyes in his, and for a moment it was only the two of them. Narrowing his gaze, Keeley could clearly see the smirk pulling against his lips. Shifting under his stare, she felt exceedingly uncomfortable, and altered her attention too his aloof brother.

Connor MacManus was staring off somewhere to his left, completely detached from world surrounding them. The man's features were solemn; professional. Keeley observed him as he bit his lower lip absentmindedly, as if trying to figure out a puzzle. Connor shared the same azure orbs as his brother, but they lacked the piercing lethalness Murphy's carried. Instead, in its place was a profound understanding; the look of a more mature brother. It wasn't hard to distinguish between them, who would be the first to throw a punch in a brawl. No, it was clear, Connor was the more level headed of the two.

His features played splendidly against the bar's lighting, similar to Rocco's, but something was there that hadn't been there before. As Keeley continued to stare at Connor, his person had stirred in her certain sentiments that had lain dormant for a very long time. Still in oblivious contemplation, the Irishman reached across the table and picked up his smokes. Opening the pack he obtained a cigarette with his teeth and wrapped it securely around his thin lips. Keeley never blinked, staring blankly as Connor ever so slightly pursed his lips and lit his cig. His sighing exhale sent a shiver down Keeley's spine, causing her to jump in her seat.

"Ye alright there lass?" Connor casually glanced down at his cigarette—This sat between a tattooed index finger and ashtray.

Both Rocco and Murphy quieted their conversation and turned their attention to Keeley. The sudden concentration caused her great discomfort.

"Yea…I'm—I'm fine. Just chilled is all…" She overlooked the three and lowered her gaze. Six eyes studied her the way she had studied them, and not to her surprise, it felt odd.

"Probably trippin' on some kinda crack." Murphy snapped, before taking a shot.

Keeley reared her head ready to defend herself against the accusation, but Rocco had beaten her too it.

"Nah, Murph, nah…she's a good kid. The kind of shit you guys wanna help."

Connor rolled his eyes and titled his head back, downing his shot, and then taking a long drag from his cancer stick. Looking directly at Keeley he leaned in for the photographed flyer. Pulling it to his person Connor took another hit off of his cig. Holding in his breath, he turned the paper over quickly; checking the back for more information.

"Patrick Fosten…good Irish name," He mused. "Duffy, well that's a surname common 'round this neighborhood."

Connor passed the flyer to his brother.

Murphy glanced back and forth between the photo and Keeley, taking in their resemblances. Every time his eyes flickered back to her, Keeley felt the heat from his stare.

"Looks just like ye."

Rocco pulled the paper from Murphy's grasp and raised his brow.

"You think so?"

Both the brothers glanced at Rocco suspiciously and answered with a unison 'aye'.

The woman sitting before them fidgeted in her seat, running her fingers through her hair. Tears spilled over and onto the table top, every one holding a thousand prayers for her brother. She knew no punishment in hell could suffice for the way she let Patrick go. In every aspect—in every word uttered by these strangers, Keeley was beleaguered with guilt.

"Keeley was it?" Connor questioned; his face holding an expression somewhere between indifference and remorse.

Unable to answer with words the girl closed her eyes and nodded, quietly weeping.

"Well, Murph and I'll stick some of these up 'round our apartment building. Condolences to ye as well—Roc told us about yer friend. It doesn't need said the sick fuck will get what he has comin' to em." Connor narrowed his eyes and nodded his head in abhorrence.

Murphy chimed in, "The cock sucker needs fucked, is what. Any Git that gets off rapin' and murderin' needs a loaf straight to the nuts, and bullet through his skull."

Rocco nodded and patted Murphy's back.

"Take it easy Murphy," Connor put out his cigarette and glanced up at Keeley, "Rocco has our number, we will call ye if we find anything out. Even thought about passing a few out at our work; ain't that right Murph?"

His brother looked her over under scrutinizing eyes.

"Aye."

Keeley bit her nails and hung her head. As comforting as Connor was trying to be, she had heard the 'We will call you if we find anything' speech from the police and detectives. Closing her eyes Keeley drew in a deep breath. Perhaps she should sound more gratifying…

"Thank you—both. I'm just…I want him home safely. You three doing this for me, wells its something I could never repay." Keeley cracked her knuckles and forced a smile. "Thank you."

The three men nodded, each taking another drink.

An hour or so had passed. Every so often Keeley would turn her attention back to Connor, who hadn't lowered his eyes from hers in all that time. The soft pools of cerulean flashed, hidden under the smog of smoke that danced upward, disappearing into the cutting blades of the ceiling fan. She had tried to ignore his persistent looking. Rubbing the back of her neck, Keeley had even studied her glass of ginger ale; hoping that in that time he would look away. And to her utmost relief he did, turning his awareness toward his brother.

"Should probably get movin' Murph. We got work tomorrow." Connor slipped on his coat, which had been thrown carelessly across the table.

Murphy, who was falling asleep on the same table nodded and yawned.

"Aye, it was nice seein' ye Roc. And nice to meet ye…eh, what was it?"

Keeley rubbed her eyes and yawned out her name.

"Right then, nice to meet ye Duffy. Be keeping an eye out for that brother of yers, yea?" Murphy stretched, threw on his coat, and patted Rocco on the back. Then as he lit a cigarette, Murphy walked toward the exit tiredly.

His brother had trailed behind him, taking a moment to say his own goodbyes.

"Right Roc, see ye soon brother," Connor ran a hand through his hair. "And don't ye worry too much about yer brother lass…I'm sure the police are doin' all they can. It's your job to keep a clear head."

Waving a goodbye the man trudged after his brother. Within moments the two Irishmen had left McGinty's, leaving Keeley and Rocco sitting at the near empty table.

"You—you wanna go now?" Rocco reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, leaving a twenty out for the old bartender.

"Yea."

* * *

><p>Standing outside the apartment was utter torture. Soft falling snow had turned into an icy downpour; colliding against their already frozen bodies. Ready to kill Rocco for misplacing his keys, Keeley shivered and wiped the rain from her face. She watched as he slumped down next to the door and threw his hands up in defeat.<p>

"I don't know." He yelled at the irritated girl.

"What do you mean YOU DON'T KNOW? Doesn't Donna keep one under the mat or something?"

Rocco stuck his hand under the door mat and shook his head, "That druggie bitch can't even find this place half the time—why the fuck would she leave her key under the mat?"

Smacking her hand against her forehead, Keeley mused. Since when did Rocco lock the door when he left anyway?

"Alright you dumb shit, is that window unlocked?" She pointed to a pane directly above doorframe. It was narrow, but if unlocked, Keeley might be able to squeeze through it.

Rocco followed her pointed finger in the darkness to the windowpane and stood up to analyze it further. Nodding he brushed his hair away from his soaked face.

"Yea should be. Think you can fit?"

Pulling off her coat the girl muttered and threw it too the ground.

"If you can lift me up there, I'll climb through and unlock the door."

Rocco rubbed his hands together and nodded once more.

"Spread your legs."

"Excuse me?" Keeley's voice jumped an octave.

"Oh c'mon you stupid bitch, you knew what I meant."

Still laughing, Keeley spread her legs enough to climb onto Rocco's shoulders, and slowly he positioned himself upright from his kneeling position. Carefully—so not to hurt him—Keeley stood up, using his shoulders as a stepstool. The windowpane was slippery from the rain, and a bitch to try and lift open. From below, she heard Rocco complaining about the pain her weight was causing and ignored him. With her thin fingers she pried the glass open and pushed up with her palms. The warmth from inside rushed out, forcing a thankful groan from her throat.

"It's open Rocco! Push me through!" Keeley called down to him.

Cautiously in between vibrant curses, Rocco took her feet in his hands and violently pushed her body through the small open space. Keeley's small frame shot through the opening and landed with a muffled thud on the other side.

"Shit." He whispered. "You alright?"

The lock on the door clicked and it slid open. On the other end stood Keeley, drenched from the rain and bleeding profusely from her nose.

"Grab my coat you fucking moron." She mumbled, walking further into the place.

He did as asked and followed her inside.

Once settled inside the apartment Rocco rummaged through a dresser pulling this and that out. Finally, finding a faded red button-down shirt he tossed it to Keeley.

"That's all I got. I'd give you something of Donna's but I don't think she owns one fucking full length shirt."

Sighing Keeley shrugged her shoulders.

"That's alright. I'd rather have an oversized shirt to sleep in anyway. It's more comfortable."

"Well then, there's that one. You want the bed? I'll sleep on the couch. Lemme get you some blankets and shit." Rocco walked out of the room and down the small hallway.

Keeley took this opportunity to change out of her soaked clothes, peeling off her jeans and then shirt; leaving on her socks and boy-short cut underwear. Next she pulled the shirt arms through, and began to button it down. Lastly Keeley pulled her hair up into a messy bun and fumbled trying to get the last two buttons fastened before Rocco came back. She had done so successfully and gave a small smile when he returned.

She turned down the hall, entering the only bedroom in the apartment. The space was small, and the bed nothing more than a lumpy mattress on the floor. A lumpy mattress that looked so heavenly to her heavy body. Keeley crawled over the sheets and blankets, burying her face into the pillows and shut her eyes. Perhaps if she focused hard enough, all of this would be a dream—a horrible nightmare…

"Dear God," She murmured. "Watch over Patrick…" Her eyes stung with tears. "Watch over my little brother Lord. He is yours, keep him safe. Do not let him suffer Lord; place the burden on me…for I have sinned. Ease his mind, and guard his soul…place his pain onto my shoulders Father…for I have sinned…amen."

Lifting her head from the pillows she dried her tears and looked up at the doorframe. Rocco stood there, still in his wet clothes, staring at her.

"What?" Keeley propped her head up with her left hand, leaning up in the bed.

"Need clothes…" The man trudged along the bed and picked this and that up off the floor.

"Wasn't there any in the drawer in the living room?"

Rocco shook his head and turned to leave, but Keeley stopped him.

"Rocco!...Rocco, thank you. For everything you've done."

He laughed a little.

"No problem, Key." He walked back over to her and sat down on the edge of the mattress.

"Roc, do you honestly think we will find him?" Keeley sighed again, this time too tired to cry.

"Fuck yea."

Sitting up, Keeley wrapped the blankets around her exposed legs and hugged Rocco from around the waist.

"Thank you."

The room was silent, save for the downpour from outside. Staying in this position, both bodies never felt uncomfortable—it was innate to them. Keeley turned her head upward. Vibrant green eyes bore into her. She felt her cheeks flush and warmth grow throughout her body. His stare was so intoxicating…

"Your welcome."

All of her pain, her desire, and her want, coursed through her veins and discharged through her pores. The emotion within her built so feverishly, Keeley was persuaded Rocco was possibly able to feel it under his drenched attire.

"Rocco…"

In one fluid movement his lips brushed against hers, all the while her brain telling her too stop. Too stop and remember who she with—who's body in a fit of built up rage and pain, she longed for. How wrong it was for her to do such a thing, now of all times. Over and over again she told herself to relinquish the consideration she had for the man—all in vain.

Before anymore warnings could muster the strength to scream at the Keeley's conscience, it had gone too far.

Rocco's hands were intertwined in Keeley's hair. Each kiss deepening the growing temptation; closing the small space between them. There was a burning deep inside of her body, a burning that injured her. How she wanted to cry and sob and hold onto this man, and let him take away her pain. Was he even capable of completing such a task? Keeley would find out.

Forcing a break in the virgin seal of their lips, she began by caressing his bottom lip with her tongue. She felt the want grow within him moreover, as it pressed against her waist.

Rocco's breathing was unsteady, unpredictable.

What happened next, she didn't expect.

Rocco took hold of both of her wrists and laughed out a sigh.

"Can't fucking do this, Key." He sighed into her neck. "Fuck…"

Keeley pulled away from his grasp and turned on her side. She knew what he meant—she knew it wasn't out of rejection.

He had stopped her for the same reason she tried to stop herself. There might have been emotion put into play they could one day act on. But having it sparked by Patrick, wasn't the way to have it done.

When she didn't say anything, Rocco sighed again.

"Well…I…goodnight." Rocco—obviously uncomfortable—stood up and walked away, mumbling a variety of curses.

Once he left Keeley buried her head into the pillows and screamed. She screamed at him, at herself, and at Patrick…she even screamed at God. Keeley screamed and screamed and screamed…until sleep finally took her.

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><p>Question: How do you guys feel about Rocco not dying in this FF? I'm still torn, so help me decide!<p> 


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